


Trinket Troubles

by kamikaze43v3r



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Feelings, Fluff and Humor, Grindelwho?, M/M, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, everything is sunshine and rainbows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 07:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamikaze43v3r/pseuds/kamikaze43v3r
Summary: Credence makes colourful bracelets for Graves and Graves wears them. The whole of MACUSA goes nuts.





	1. 5 times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waltertail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waltertail/gifts).



> Inspired by [this lovely, cute art](http://walter-sullivan-stubble.tumblr.com/post/154987801250/thought-credence-gives-mr-graves-ugly-bracelets) by [walter-sullivan-stubble](http://walter-sullivan-stubble.tumblr.com) on tumblr! Her art is wonderful please go visit her and reblog all her art :D

**1: Abernathy**

“Director Graves, sir!” someone calls, a smaller man with neat, slick hair walks briskly, nearly chasing after the Director of Magical Security with a run. The sharply dressed man whom everyone makes way for barely acknowledges the other with a grunt, seemingly walking faster as if to rid of him. “Mr. Graves, Sir, the President is calling you to her office.”

Graves finally turns around to face the employee. “Thank you,” Graves grits out, eyes glazing over momentarily as he tries to remember the man’s name again, “Ah... bernathy.”

“A pleasure, Sir,” the younger man nods, almost preening that the Director remembers his name.

Graves holds back from rolling his eyes, about to move to the office he’s been summoned to, but the man - whatshisface again? Abernanny? - is pointedly staring at something on him. Like really, openly, staring with wide eyes and biting his lip in a show of holding his words back. But apparently he can’t hold them back hard enough.

“Uh, is that new, sir?” Aberwhatsthat says. Graves gives the man a tight smile, but he realizes the employee is trying to keep the conversation going despite knowing that the President is calling for him. He remembers the man now: he oversaw Tina at the Wands Permit Office. He’s heard his condescending tone towards the older Goldstein, but straightens up whenever he or Seraphina comes into view.

Ass kisser, probably. “It’s very pretty,” Abernasty continues, smiling up at him like a puppy. Yep, definitely an ass kisser. “I mean. It’s charming. The colour matches your uh, collar pins.”

“ _Thank you_ , Abu- Abernathy,” Graves nearly stumbles on the name this time but he almost doesn’t care. He feels his jaw clench and his brows pulling together. He knows he’s glaring, but at least his tone is still polite. Somewhat. He still has to keep up appearances though, or Sera will have his head. “Now if you’ll ex-”

“May I know where you purchased them from, Sir?” Graves almost raises his brows at the man for actually interrupting him. Abernappy flushes, apparently aware of his rudeness and quickly tries to rectify it. “I apologize, Sir, I just wanted to know, maybe I can get them for someone-”

“It’s custom-made,” Graves snaps, apparently much louder than he realized, immediately covering the bright green bead bracelet with his jacket sleeves. He hadn’t intended them to be bared so openly. “Nothing you can afford anyway,” the Director adds nastily.

“O-oh,” Abernavy deflates and Graves doesn’t care to be in the employee’s presence anymore, shuffling away to Seraphina’s office, ignoring all the looks he’d attracted from his little outburst.

If he’s wearing any more colourful beaded trinkets that clash with his refined wardrobe in the following weeks, nobody’s staring or mentioning any of it.

 

* * *

  

**2: Seraphina**

Seraphina first sees the tawdry jewelry when she spots the unusually loud colour from the corner of her eye. Admittedly, she had done a bit of a double take when she saw the cheap-looking bracelet wrapped around her Director of Magical Security’s wrist. It did not go with his pristine clothes, nor did it fit the usually stern man whose brows do most of his talking.

The President holds her tongue. She likes to think that she knows her right-hand man well; this is far too out of his character for Graves to have done this wholeheartedly and willingly. She wonders if the trinket is from a young family member, but then Seraphina remembers that Graves doesn’t have any family. At least none close enough for him to open up to or talk about.

Of course, such a glaring new accessory wouldn’t go unnoticed on their usually black clad Director. Nearly every week, their ever-popular Head Auror Graves sports a different handmade bracelet, all of them cheap-looking and rather poorly made, but it’s got a soft touch to it. None of the employees have addressed the new addition to their boss’ ensemble, especially not after it seemed that one of them had been given the Director’s Deadly Glare™ (as dubbed by certain members of MACUSA).

But Seraphina recognizes a _different_ look whenever she notices Graves’ eyes straying momentarily to the colourful accessory. It makes the ends of her lips curl up into a smile - a smirk, really, and a rare enough expression that some of her Aurors look at her nervously. Graves shows no indication of ever noticing her observations. She’s always been a little proud about that.

It’s only when they finally have a private meeting between them, mulling over a case of serial pranksters terrorizing no-majs with tickling spells, that Seraphina decides to talk about it. After all, Graves seems to be daring and comfortable enough to have rolled up his shirtsleeves and bare both his forearms and unique accessory of the week. It’s a turquoise coloured bracelet this time; the beads themselves seem to be handmade, carved from wood and with little etchings of black smoke along it. Seraphina thinks the maker of the trinkets has improved tremendously from the first one she’s seen many weeks before. Maybe Graves is actively trying to show it off now.

“So I’m looking for a new bangle for the Dance next month…” Seraphina begins, and she’s immediately subjected to the Director’s Deadly Glare™.

Seraphina just gives him a look that basically says, ‘Really?’

Graves’ brows wiggles animatedly, conveying a wordless, ‘Yes, _really_.’

Seraphina tilts her head and pointedly looks at the bracelet, making Graves duck his hand under the table. His glare intensifies, and so does his brows, nearly one with his eyes.

The President holds her unimpressed face, smirking just a little while the Director keeps up his brow talk.

They continue their silent exchange through expressions and brows, mostly with Graves avoiding her insistence to talk about it. It’s enough to make Seraphina feel her face cramp up. And she’s had years of practice with Congress.

The President huffs and shakes her head, eventually admitting defeat after what seems like a 15 minute stare down. Her right hand man can be as unmovable as a stone wall when it comes to wills.

 

* * *

 

**3: Newt**

Newt Scamander’s second visit to New York is going smoothly. No troubles with creatures, magical or non, and he’s on his way to the Woolworth Building to meet up with Tina. He’s hoping it’ll be a pleasant surprise for her; he doesn’t want to bother the young woman with his sudden appearance.

When he enters the MACUSA part of the building, he spots a familiar man walking with the President. He’d seen the man before; Tina’s boss, isn’t he? And the dark skinned woman he’s walking with has her portrait on the wall. He ducks out of their way just as they separate and the man with the silver temples walks briskly to his next destination. The man rushes past Newt, and at the same moment he raises his hand to smooth back his hair, the sleeve of his shirt slides down a little to bare his wrist and also a shockingly bright accessory.

And perhaps it’s a bad habit, but Newt can’t help himself when he thinks he sees something fascinating.

“Excuse me!” Newt finds himself blurting out, and Tina’s boss - what was his name again? - turns around with the most impressive set of brows Newt has ever seen. They furrow in confusion as the man stares at Newt in question. Newt barely realizes that he’s addressing the United States’ Director of Magical Security. He’s too focused on the carved bracelet on the man’s wrist, never mind that it looks so out of place on the man.

“Your trinket - that’s - that’s made of bone, isn’t it?” Newt has always been focused on magical creatures and fantastic beasts, but he shares similar love for the non-magical too. He very much prefers them alive, but in death while there is sadness, he also knows one can learn a lot from what’s left behind.

And right now, Newt thinks he’s spotted a unique bird skull hanging off the man’s bracelet. Despite its rather macabre nature, it goes oddly well with the ornament of glaringly orange painted wooden beads. He thinks he spots a couple more delicate bird and rodent bones in there too, all held together by string. Scraps, most likely.

Tina’s boss is still staring at Newt incredulously, not exactly glaring but not exactly a neutral look either. Newt is too distracted by the trinket, he’s not aware he’s taken the man’s arm and rotating it, studying the accessory like a treasure. Newt sees that the skull is tiny, a baby bird perhaps, and there’s a deformity to it. There's some weathering, damage and age; perhaps the maker made use of what he’s found? Newt is intrigued, because they appear impeccable and lovingly cared for despite the amateur make.

“Yes, they are. They’re of a sparrow that Cr- that the crafter found,” the man speaks and Newt is startled, as he didn’t expect to be taken seriously in the first place. The man has a slightly relaxed expression which takes Newt off guard. He's staring at the wristlet like it's the most priceless creation, a ghost of a smile on his thin lips. Newt thinks he doesn't seem the type who smiles often. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Utterly fascinating,” Newt agrees with a nod, but he’s referring to the bone, and though Newt isn’t exactly a people person, it’s clear the man is looking pleased because he thinks Newt’s agreeing about the make of the accessory as a whole. Newt figures it looks homely, in a sense, like it’s made with care and love, even if it’s not pristine. He finally lets go of the man's arm, muttering an apology.

It’s then that they realize that everyone in the hall is staring at them. Newt only notices because it had become _too_ quiet, like everyone practically stopped to stare. And they are. All of the employees there are mostly staring at the other man, who gruffly orders them to get back to work. He looks a little flustered, quickly spinning around to walk off, leaving Newt perplexed.

“Newt! Newt! What are you doing?!” he hears Tina’s voice. He grins when he sees her running towards him, looking a little embarrassed that the others are still openly staring at him, while the others have scampered off after Tina’s boss sent out his order. “What were you doing with Mr. Graves?!”

“Mr. Graves? He’s your boss, isn’t he?” Newt gives her a confused frown. “We were just talking about his bracelet.” It’s Tina’s turn to give him the expression.

“What are you talking about, Mr. Graves doesn’t have something like that!” Newt opens his mouth to argue, but thinks better of it and shrugs. Judging by the way the man had hurried off, maybe it's a private thing. He certainly doesn't want to pry into a stranger's matters, especially not the Director of Magical Security. He instead distracts Tina with the copy of the book he’d promised her and she immediately drops the topic with a blush and a smile.

 

* * *

 

**4: Tina and Queenie**

“What have you been doing, Queenie?” Tina asks her younger sibling, eyeing the little crafts bag she recognises hanging from her hand. It’s a gaudy, handmade bag, of soft cloth and covered in beads and sequin. Queenie is good with her hands, from cooking and baking to sewing. Her sister stops by the elevator of their office, straightening her back and acknowledges Tina with a hum. They're the only ones left in the office, so Tina had chosen to confront her then. No need to be fuel for gossip mongers.

“Oh, nothing, just doing some uh, sewing,” Queenie replies vaguely, her smile nervous and her eye avoiding hers. Tina might not be a Legilimens, but she can read her sister like a book.

“Really,” Tina narrows her eyes at her. “I’ve been seeing you hanging around the upper levels more often lately. And serving Mr. Graves a lot of coffee and biscuits.” Queenie looks affronted by the accusation in her tone.

“Well… because Mr. Abernathy got into Mr. Graves’ bad side,” Queenie explains slowly. “I filled in for him.”

“That man gets on _my_ bad side, and you don’t serve me coffee and biscuits,” Tina pouts.

“I give you hot cocoa!”

“Not the same, Queenie.”

“You like the cocoa I make!”

“I do, and you’re distracting me! I’ve seen you carrying that bag while you’re serving Mr. Graves his coffee, so tell me what you’ve been doing, Queenie.”

Tina had, admittedly, not noticed the huge commotion about Mr. Graves at first. Not until Newt pointed it out to her that her boss - stern, scary, strong and gruff Director Graves - is wearing a colourful, almost child-like style bracelet. She hadn’t believed him, but in the following days, she had decided to be a little more observant and there it was, beaded trinkets of different colours strung together and wrapped around the man’s wrist. And he changes to a new one every week!

Tina hadn’t said anything, of course, and had joined the others in pointedly _not_ looking at it. No wonder everyone else had been acting rather strange lately. Even the President had been smirking more every time she and Mr. Graves meet. The Director had only been responding to her with annoyed scowls...

And well, just maybe, Queenie and her crafts skills have something to do with that? Tina has to find out. She has always been a curious cat, to the point of one would call nosy, perhaps, but Tina likes to think of it as a good trait in an Auror.

“I was just sharing my sewing skills,” the blonde blinks innocently. Tina narrows her eyes at her sister to the point of nearly squinting.

“With Mr. Graves,” Tina deadpans.

“Yeeeep,” Queenie replies uncertainly.

“Queenie… if you have anything to tell me…”

“No, what do I have to say?” Queenie keeps up her stiff, awkward blinking.

“Are you… and Mr. Graves…?”

Queenie stares at her older sister to continue, but then she seems to read Tina’s mind and she jerks up with a scowl. “Teenie, no! How can you think of such a thing!”

“I’m not - I’m just!” Tina tries to do damage control. She doesn’t like thinking of such things, but there have been rumours, ever since Abernathy got nearly yelled at by her boss and Queenie was requested personally by Mr. Graves as a replacement. And she herself has seen her little sister looking around sneakily, grasping her special crafts bag and entering Mr. Graves’ office more often.

“Oh Teenie, you don’t believe in such rumours, do you?”

“But… I don’t know what to think, Queenie. Mr. Graves has been looking, well, _nicer_ lately. He actually smiles! And if you and -”

“No, no, Tina, please. I mean, Mr. Graves is a looker - “

“ _Ugh_.”

“- but he’s definitely not my kind of man. I am just helping him out!”

“Helping him out with what? _Sewing_?” Tina asks incredulously. She doesn’t expect the hesitant look in her sister’s face. “No way.”

“Um?” Queenie shrugs, biting her lip.

“What is he doing? What - I’m - This is -” Tina is at a loss for words. “So you and Mr. Graves?”

“Nope,” Queenie shakes her head vehemently. “Helping him with it though.”

“So he has someone?”

“Mmhmm,” Queenie nods with a smile.

“The bracelet is from his - ?” Another nod. Tina stares blankly at her sister. Well, at least her boss is happy… with someone. And not her sister. Which would be weird if Mr. Graves is with her sister.

That should be the end of it. She doesn’t have to question her younger sibling anymore now that it’s settled. But her curiosity has grown even bigger now, and she _has_ to know. Queenie begins to grin at her knowingly, having read her thoughts.

“Stop grinning and tell me!” Tina grumbles.

“Nuh uh, that’s up to Mr. Graves! Now I have some sewing to teach to a certain Director! I’ll have to say it’s your fault I’m late!” Queenie laughs and enters the elevator and disappears to the upper levels to the Director’s office, leaving Tina to her thoughts.

 

* * *

 

**5: Graves**

Graves hates the attention. What’s so odd about him wearing a trinket or two? It’s just beaded bracelets, only more… colourful than one would usually expect on him. True, they don’t suit his usual style, all straight lines and sharp angles clashing with the rounded, roughly carved beads.

He likes them. He truly does. Even with all the garish colours and mediocre craftsmanship that doesn't go with his refined and sophisticated tastes. He had been reluctant in wearing them at first, yes, but he did, and he hadn’t regretted it. Especially since he gets to see that shy smile and dark eyes light up from joy.

Graves has been wearing the trinkets for at least a couple months now. He’d expected the looks and the whispers, but they’re _still_ staring at him despite it been so long. What is there to stare at?! Seraphina, the _President,_ has been equally frustrating, with her smirks and amused huffs every time Graves even glances at the bracelets, and he has never wanted to strangle his employer as much then.

He’d already sent that Abernaffy away after he couldn’t stop gaping at his new bracelet each week, and they’d sent in the younger Goldstein sister as his replacement. He hadn’t thought much of her, but she seems to smile knowingly at him too.

Graves has had enough of it. It’s put him in more of a bad mood the past months, taking new delight in sending his subordinates into piles of paperwork and painfully boring surveys. He reserves the especially dreadful tasks to the ones who even dares to mention anything about his new accessories.

He saves all his good feelings during his lunch break and after work. He seeks out the one who’s been gifting him with his new trinkets - a young man clad in black, with pale skin and dark hair that’s unfortunately cut in a terrible style, and equally dark eyes. He’s tall but lean and slight, hunched shoulders making him smaller. His hands are large but delicate, scarred from unjust punishments, yet soft and careful.

Graves remembers seeing the boy for the first time. Huddled by himself, hands stained with blood and cruel marks. Tina Goldstein had been the one to have found him, and her anger had gotten the best of her by casting magic at the young man’s abusive mother. What had followed was a mess of paperwork and Obliviation spells, earning the older Goldstein a demotion and suspension that lasted for months, before she finally got a break from catching one of the wanted wizards and returning to her previous position as Auror.

In that meantime, Graves had taken it upon himself to watch the boy whom Tina had nearly lost her job over. He didn’t think he’d become so… _invested_ in a simple broken boy with the sad eyes and open, hungry heart.

To his surprise, the boy had seen through his disillusionment charms, dark gaze meeting his, and for the first time Graves was under the spell of - not black, but brandy coloured eyes.

After the first time he approached the young man - “It’s Credence, sir” - Graves went back, again and again, just talking. And by some lack of reason, Percival Graves, the _Director of Magical Security_ thought it was a good idea to reveal magic to a no-maj, in complete disregard of Rappaport’s Law that he was employed to uphold.

Graves had found himself hopelessly besotted with the no-maj boy with the soft eyes and even softer touch. With each visit he learns more about the young man and his quiet manners, the big, caring heart he has for his sisters, the desperations and desires that he holds so tightly under the lid. Despite the cruelties of life and his adoptive mother, Credence is still so welcoming of the things he was taught to hate, and hopeful despite his fears and abuse.

Graves wants to take the boy away. Graves is sure the boy is at least a Squib to have seen through his disillusionment charms, but that isn’t enough to build a case for him, for the their kind to interfere and fully welcome him.

While he is willing to heal and soothe the boy’s pains from his mother’s punishments during their brief meetings, Credence had insisted in paying the older man back somehow. Both were stubborn, but eventually they settled with Credence’s newfound hobby of crafting small trinkets, initially started to make his younger sister happy. Now he’s made some bead and bone bracelets for Graves, and the boy makes them almost weekly.

The first ones the boy made were unpolished and rough, but they were charming. And Credence had made them _especially_ for him. Graves couldn’t say no. He even put them around his wrist in front of Credence just to see the bright grin on the young man’s face that left him in a daze as he left for work. He has been continuing the practice every day, wearing the accessory his young man had made for him proudly; a reminder of the splash of colour and life in his once black and white world.

Which brings him to his current state of being the hottest new gossip topic for his employees and subordinates. He's already the talk of the company for being awarded _Mr MACUSA_ for five years straight (who the hell came up with that?! And who the hell has been voting for him?!) and now they’re trying to intrude on his wardrobe choices. They’re just bead bracelets, for Merlin’s sake. And what’s this about him smiling? He does smile. He smiles at the President and the Congress! Even if they were really forced. Or when they crack an especially tough case and he’d yell ‘Got the bastard!’. Or when they’re about to arrest a dark wizard after Graves had given them a deserved beating with his favoured lightning spells.

Of course, it hasn't taken long for his employees to come up with some theories about his bracelets: He lost a bet at a card game and has to wear the embarrassing (Graves is offended that they think Credence’s bracelets are _embarrassing_ ) trinkets; he’s donating his wealth to some charity and they’ve given him the bracelets in return (Graves supposes they’re not too far off); he has a lover who’s trying their hand on crafts and making Graves wear them ( _nobody_ makes Graves do something he doesn’t want to. Except maybe the President. Or Credence, but he’s doing it willingly!). Others include wilder variations, like he’s been Hexed to wear them, or Graves doesn’t even notice the accessories because he’s actually under the Imperius curse (what are they thinking??).

Graves pays no heed to them. He doesn’t care much about his reputation at work other than being the gifted, skilled duellist who’s done one of the best jobs as Director of Magical Security in the past decade. Though he still tries not to be followed or noticed when he’s off to meet the boy who’s been the highlight of his life currently.

Yet, he disappoints himself when he’s actually caught off guard by a fugitive wizard who’d escaped arrest earlier this year. The wizard with his broken nose and terrible teeth catches him with a Stunning charm, and Graves barely manages a Counter charm.

He grunts as he hits the floor on his back, but immediately rolls to his feet, narrowly missing another spell. He hears numerous voices; an ambush, then, since he _is_ a famously skilled Duelling wizard so they have to cheat, but from the spells they’re yelling out, they’re not planning on killing him at least. He notes four voices but sees only three of them.

But Graves is disoriented from the first attack. While he’s wordlessly throwing one of his attackers another spell, he doesn't notice the last wizard coming up behind him. He only spots the looming shadow too late, only raising his hand to block the incoming magic, unable to think of his Protection charm in time. The clack of the wooden beads of his bracelet on that arm makes him think of Credence, of how worried and sad the boy would be if he were to miss their usual meetings and then -

The same beaded bracelet - a blue and yellow one, with bits of shells Credence said he’d found over the years, little _treasures_ he’d kept in a box under the floorboard in his tiny room - glows. And it’s pulsating _magic_ \- in its purest, raw form, illuminating bright white light. The light blasts the sneaky wizard back, but Graves can feel the static of the magic still lingering. But as suddenly as it triggered, the beads crack and crumble, slowly falling off his wrist and scattering across the dirt floor.

Graves is stunned by the display, and so are his attackers. They’re all staring at the silvery smoke - not unlike the ones of a Patronus charm - that’s slithering up Graves’ arm and hovers over his shoulders almost protectively. It takes Graves a couple of seconds before he breaks out of his stupor and casts Stupefying and Incarcerous spells on all four of them.

He notifies Seraphina and calls on his Aurors to collect the criminals. The silvery smoke had already faded away by the time the Aurors arrive. He almost smiles in glee that they’ve just added more years to their sentence. Did they really think they could take the Director down? If they were more bruised than they were before, they can only blame themselves for indirectly destroying his bracelet, one Credence had made specially for him! But then again, they did almost succeed in their ambush, and if not for Credence’s bracelets…

This time Graves sighs, an odd one that doesn’t sound like one is tired or exasperated. He’s not sure what his sigh means either.

“Something wrong, sir?” one of his Aurors, Sam, asks him nervously. He's more of an Obliviator, tasked to clear any no maj memory of magic in case they saw anything. Graves shakes his head no as he spots Tina Goldstein talking with one of the others. She’s there to help with the transporting of the arrested. Graves wonders if Tina knows about Credence's magic. He’d have to investigate on the young man's lineage, but he feels indebted to him too. He has to do something.

Food would be troublesome; the boy doesn’t have much time to spare for a full meal, and his mother might smell it on him. While he’s pondering, Sam looks to the floor with a slight frown and bends down to pick up the scattered beads. Most of them were cracked or broken, but some are still intact. None of them have any trace of the magic that the bracelet radiated earlier.

“Do you want to get this fixed, Sir?” Sam asks, holding out the handful of beads. He attempts to fix it with _Reparo_ but for whatever reason, it doesn't work. The Obliviator looks perplexed by it. Graves scowls, feeling a pang of guilt over its sorry state.

“No, I can’t bring it back like this,” the Director sighs again, shaking his head again. “Unless you know anyone who can repair it manually?”

“Hm, I can ask Queenie.” Graves flicks his gaze to Sam, who looks nervous at the attention. “Aside from gossip and knowing... things she’s not supposed to know, she’s good at sewing and cooking. She likes to cook and make things for our birthdays.”

Graves stares at Sam with a questioning fuzzy brow before turning his attention to Tina who is still talking animatedly to her fellow Auror. “Send her to my office later,” Graves says, reminded of the coffee Queenie’s made and the knowing smile she gave him the first time. Maybe she can help him with something. “And don't tell Tina.”


	2. +1 Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy endings.

**+1: Credence**

Credence gets his paints from a nice old painter who lives alone in one of the streets he often goes to give out his flyers at. Credence has visited the old man occasionally the past year, a similarly lone soul who seems to enjoy Credence’s quiet company while the boy watches from the window of the old man’s shack in a corner. He’s one of the few people whom Credence can call a little more than just an acquaintance, and though they barely exchange words, the old man smiles at him and gives him a few little cups of paint and an old brush each visit. The paints given to him come in different colours, all of them saturated enough that they almost hurt his eyes. But they make Modesty happy, so Credence likes them too.

Credence had decided to start on his little hobby then, stringing together beads he’d made out of scraps of wood or stone or even shells he’d spot on his daily work. He’d first thought of it for Modesty, the newest addition to their family. He likes her, admires her for her willfulness and spirit that remains even after a year with the Barebones. He’s glad his work is appreciated, when the girl smiles and holds his hand in thanks.

He hadn’t thought that he would be doing the same for the man in the luxurious coat and soft smile despite the sharp, intense eyes. Mr. Graves is a witch - no, a _wizard_. Ma had taught him that they are evil incarnates, that magic is unnatural and sinful, created to tempt the good from the correct path. Credence had been scared of the man initially, but there was something about him that was familiar, like the nice lady he can barely remember now, her kind smiling face floating in his dreams. Had she been magic too?

This older gent is handsome, pleasant and kind. His eyebrows are admittedly, the first thing Credence sees, and they remind him of fuzzy, angry caterpillars at first, but the man is extremely expressive with them. He’d spoken little at first, waggling them and frowning and furrowing them with his expressions, and Credence had to learn to translate what each movement meant. With each visit, the man talks with him more. Eventually, Credence had begun to carefully trust the man. The man is rough around the edges despite his sleek style, but Credence relaxes at the concern in his voice, the easy unintrusive questions he asks Credence every time, like simple things about the street or the weather. But all too soon, Credence had plunged in deep when the man - Mr. Graves - showed Credence the wonders of magic, using them to heal Credence and the hurt Ma left on him.

Credence so desperately needed to repay the man for all he’d done. It had been one of his more stronger willed moments, insisting that he make something for Mr. Graves in return. The man could throw the bracelets he makes away; they weren’t very good creations, and they were worth next to nothing, but it was at least something Credence could compensate him with since he has no money.

Instead, Mr. Graves wore them. Pulled them around his hand and let them rest around his wrist. Not even Modesty had worn them, though it was more out of fear that Ma would find them and punish them both for it. Yet, this refined man, with his sharp suits, his commanding presence and steely gaze that is hard enough to make anyone bow and make way for him, had chosen to wear his garish and poorly made bracelets. Admittedly, Credence thinks it’s a horrible combination. Mr. Graves looks a tad too grumpy for such saturated colours. But he supposes, it’s the thought that counts.

Credence had flushed back then, and for whatever reason, he’d felt his eyes burn with the sting of fresh tears. Mr. Graves had wiped them away with that ever-gentle smile and promised Credence another visit, as always, and Credence had watched him walk off with a warm feeling in his chest.

Now Mr. Graves visits him with his coat sleeves arranged in a way that they show off his bracelets, and Credence is embarrassed. He still thinks they’re terrible, and they stand out horribly against Mr. Graves’ much more refined style, but at the same time he feels so proud too.

Credence makes new bracelets every week, mostly during his time away from the church, away from Ma’s prying eyes, or in the middle of the night when he’s alone. He still makes them for Modesty, attempting to carve different patterns and shapes for her, and using that practice for Mr. Graves’ share too.

He weaves his feelings onto them, emotions of care, concern, protectiveness, and when he’s up to it, he’ll think of happy thoughts, uplifting memories he has of them as he carves and paints the beads. Credence murmurs prayers of protection, love and devotion as he strings them together with twine and he wraps them up with whatever scrap paper he can find before hiding them under the floorboards.

The next time he sees Mr. Graves, the man looks a little worse for wear. His hair is out of place, and even his brows seem a little frazzled. He thinks he sees a bruise on the older man’s face, and without thinking, he reaches forward to brush his fingers over it. “You’re hurt,” Credence murmurs, voice quiet. He’s startled by the look that flickers over the other man’s face. Credence quickly withdraws his hand and ducks his head. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“Shh,” the man hushes and tilts Credence’s face up by cupping his face as he often does. Mr. Graves’ touch comes easily, and Credence finds himself leaning to it more and more each time. “I’m alright, I just ran into a bit of trouble on the way here.”

Credence nods, but doesn’t say a thing. His eyes do linger on the man’s bare wrists. He feels a twinge of hurt. “Sweet boy, I apologize for worrying you,” Mr. Graves continues, stroking his cheek gently. Credence lets out a shaky breath. The man’s presence has become so comforting. Ma hasn’t punished him in a while and it’s good, it’s left Credence feeling lighter but at the same time it also means the man might not show him any more miracles with his magic.

That’s selfish, he thinks, and shakes his head. He reaches into his pocket and brings out the paper wrapped bracelet and hands it to Mr. Graves. The man recognises the wrapping and smiles.

“Thank you,” Mr. Graves says as he unwraps it. He runs his fingers over the beads with a thoughtful expression. Credence watches his face. “Do you think of anything when you make these, Credence?”

“O-oh,” the boy mutters, suddenly flushing. He’s not sure why he is, but the first thought he has is of Mr. Graves and his warm touches and close proximities. Like what they are doing now. “Um, nothing in particular.”

“Nothing? Maybe… prayers for safety or something like that?” Mr. Graves asks casually as he slips on the bracelet, looking pleased at it. Credence dares a smile but is confused by the questions.

“Yes? Just some words from the Scripture, so you will be safe and protected by the Lord,” Credence replies. Mr. Graves smiles wider at him, thumb brushing along his jaw. He flutters his eyes shut momentarily. When he opens them again, Mr. Graves’s face is much closer, almost too close. Credence inhales sharply and holds his breath, not daring to exhale. He’s nearly choking on the man’s thick cologne. It smells heavenly.

Mr. Graves nudges his nose to Credence’s cheek, lips lightly brushing the skin there, before he pulls back a bit. Credence’s mind immediately conjures a thought of Mr. Graves kissing him, the way he’s seen couples hidden away in back streets do sometimes.

“Good,” Mr. Graves murmurs vaguely. “I feel your prayers with me. Thank you, Credence.”

Credence blinks at the man, dazed by the change in the man’s tone, something warmer and softer that touches him. “You’re welcome,” the boy replies quietly.

Mr. Graves leaves shortly after that, for work, he says. Credence believes him; the man looks wealthy and sophisticated and surely he is a busy man with many matters to tend to. Credence is more than happy to have been given some time by the man, and to have his handmade trinket be worn by Mr. Graves means the world to him too.

But Mr. Graves becomes busy the following days. He visits less often, and looking more flustered, and Credence feels some guilt, thinking that he’s wasting the man’s time. But each time Mr. Graves assures him that he’s not, that he looks forward to meeting with Credence. He brings Credence treats like chocolate and candy. Sinfully sweet things that Credence nearly blushes when Mr. Graves stares at him, watching as he places the confection between his lips to taste.

Credence continues to make the man his bracelets, and Mr. Graves continues to visit him. He asks about Credence’s day and looks sad and angry at the same time whenever Credence whimpers and shows his welt-ridden palms. Credence smiles with the magic Mr. Graves spoils him with, and Credence’s feelings and skill with bracelet making continue to grow with each passing day.

After a couple weeks of few visits and brief time together, Mr. Graves returns to Credence and surprises him with a gift.

“This is for you, Credence,” Mr. Graves says as he holds out a beautifully wrapped package to the young man, who stands stiff in shock. Compared to his scrap paper packaging, Mr. Graves’ wrapping is of high quality paper.

“I-I can't possibly, Mr. Graves,” Credence stammers.

“I er, made it. For you,” Credence hears the man say nervously for the first time. Credence blinks at him, speechless. It makes him take the package with shaking hands and with the man's insistence, he opens it up to reveal a thick but beautiful scarf. It bears a striking resemblance to Mr. Graves’ own. However, it isn’t perfect; he sees some mistakes in the stitching and frayed threads, but its colour isn’t as bold as Credence’s choices for his beads. But to think that Mr. Graves, all sophisticated and refined with his commanding brows and slick hair and wealthy silver temples actually took time to make this for Credence...

“You made this?” Credence asks, his voice trembling as he stares at it.

“With a lot of help and no magic,” the older man admits, sounding a little proud. His expression is a little stiff, and his brows are doing that strange thing when he’s struggling to think of something to say. Credence learns it as Mr. Graves’ embarrassed expression. “It was quite an ordeal, really, never touched a needle, so I had to get help from Que - are you crying?!”

Credence shakes his head while attempting to stop his tears and failing. He ends up sobbing uncontrollably instead. Mr. Graves is nearly flailing, looking around at a loss before he seems to curse under his breath and pulls Credence into a hug.

“I'm so sorry my boy, forgive me if I upset you in any way?” Mr. Graves says in his ear, his warm large hand stroking the back of Credence's neck soothingly.

“It's not that, I - I can't bring this back without Ma noticing…  she’ll - I'm so sorry, Mr. Graves, you've put so much time and effort on this and I'm still -”

“Shh, hush my boy. Don't worry about that. I have something else for you,” Mr. Graves interrupts him and it makes Credence freeze. Why is Mr. Graves putting so much on him?

“Let me ask you, Credence, when you make these bracelets, you've put intent and protective thoughts into them, haven't you?” The boy nods, wiping at his eyes. He remembers Mr. Graves asking about it before. The man pulls back a little more, much to Credence’s disappointment, but it allows the both of them to breathe and talk by facing each other properly.

“What if I told you that you've put protective magic into these beads, and that they've protected me?”

“Pardon my rudeness, Mr. Graves, but I'd say you are trying to trick me,” Credence replies, still a little shaky from crying. He feels nervous, like something is about to drop. Mr. Graves’ widening smile consoles him though.

“I'm not that cruel to deceive you, my boy. You're _magic_. Your protection saved me from an ambush by a criminal wizard before,” the man tells him, gently and kindly. Credence doesn't answer, too shocked from the news.

“I'm not magic,” Credence denies weakly.

“You are. It was rude of me to send your trinkets for review, but as it turns out, they're all infused with protection magic, Credence, and they're powerful ones. Almost as powerful as a Patronus.”

Credence doesn't know what that word means, and he's still processing what the man is telling him. But Mr. Graves wouldn't lie to him, would he? And the way he's looking at Credence right now, like he's so proud and in awe, and something else…

Taking Credence’s hand, Mr. Graves brings it over to the bracelet he’s holding. His large hand over Credence’s. The wizard, Mr. Graves, murmurs something, and Credence feels his hand warm up, the bracelet in their hands radiating bright light. He senses a familiar heat, the fuzzy feeling of love and happiness and protection, thoughts and memories that brought those feelings as he was making the bracelet flood his mind and Credence gasps. He thinks he saw a glimpse of silvery white wisps, like a silver cloud swirling from their hands.

“What does this mean then,” Credence asks, feeling something bloom in his chest, trying to stamp it down. Hoping too much is terrible, it’ll only hurt him. Yet he continues to cling onto Mr. Graves’ expression as he looks up to meet the man’s gaze again, hoping that it means something good.

“It means, Credence, that you’re a _wizard_. A powerful one,” Mr. Graves tells him with the widest grin Credence has seen on him. “You can join us in our world. And… I’d like you to stay with me in the meantime while we transition you to everything.”

Credence is still speechless, blinking and staring at the older gent. He feels tears drip from his eyes again. “I’m…”

“Ah shit, I’m sorry, this must be too much for you, isn’t it?” Mr. Graves comforts him with another hug. Credence nods wordlessly, still frozen and not daring to move, doesn’t feel deserving of the other man’s touch. He makes a quiet noise when he feels the older man press a kiss to his temple. “It’s alright, Credence. You’re one of us now.”

“T-Thank you,” the boy sighs after what seems like a minute, finally relaxing and giving into the welcoming embrace, letting his body lean into Mr. Graves’.

“Are you truly alright with this?” Mr. Graves asks him, holding Credence’s hand, thumb rubbing over the healed over scars gently. Credence clutches his scarf to his chest tightly with his other hand.

But he thinks of Modesty and Chastity; Chastity is too close to Ma, already a near doppelganger in presence and belief and thinks it’s best she remains where she is. Modesty though…

“Is it possible if Modesty comes with us too?” Credence asks quietly, daring to look up at Mr. Graves again. He expects a denial and rejection, not the kind smile the man always has for him.

“Of course, I have a feeling your sister is magic too.”

 

* * *

 

 It’s been almost a year since Credence first met Mr. Graves.

He picks up the small case of his tools and heads over to the fireplace in the living room. He fixes the scarf - the same one Mr. Graves has made and given him half a year earlier - around his neck with a smile. He then takes a fistful of Floo powder from the pot on the mantle and steps into the large fireplace. He throws the powder to the ground as he utters his destination, immediately engulfed by green flames.

He comes out the other side and onto a smaller apartment. Credence is greeted by Modesty who’s stitching embroidered handkerchiefs with Queenie. Her wrist is covered in colourful bangles and beads that Credence has made for her all this while. She appears proud of them, wearing and displaying them everywhere she goes. It warms Credence’s heart that he has such a supportive sister, even when they aren’t really blood related. The younger Goldstein sister smiles brightly at him, putting down the sewing kit and flicks her wand so that a cup of steaming tea is poured and floats over to Credence.

“Thank you,” Credence says with a warm smile as he sets his case by their work table and takes a sip. He feels warm and fuzzy and comfortable, especially as he’s watching his younger sister follow Queenie’s wand movement with her own. She’s already gotten her letter for Ilvermorny, too.

“You really like that scarf, don’t cha?” Queenie teases as she guides Modesty on the spell of serving tea, swishing the tip of her wand elegantly.

“He wears it _all_ the time,” Modesty chips in, grinning mischievously. The tea cup she’s focusing on rattles, breaking her focus.

“It’s nice and warm,” Credence admits, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks. Queenie reaches over to pinch them, and Credence doesn’t shy away from her touch anymore. After Mr. Graves, Credence is more familiar and welcoming of others, especially of the Goldstein sisters. They’ve helped him with his transition to the Wizarding world, and are taking care of Modesty too. Modesty prefers staying with them anyway since they spoil her rotten, and teases Credence by saying that she wanted to let Credence have Mr. Graves all to himself.

Credence opens his case and brings out his tools. He’s still more used to his simpler methods, just a small carving knife that Mr. Graves had gotten for him, and just his fingers, putting together more bracelets. He still makes them for Mr. Graves and Modesty, but he’s making some for Queenie and Tina too.

Queenie’s even helped him get a sale of some of his bracelets among her colleagues. He even has the _President_ of MACUSA, who had been kindly and sympathetic to his circumstances, and Mr. Graves’ boss, interested in his work! He heard from Queenie that she’s pestered Mr. Graves (imagine that!) for his pieces, but Mr. Graves had always brushed her off, in which Queenie had gleefully told him that he was possessive of Credence’s attention and bracelets. So it was up to Queenie to get the deal done, without Mr. Graves impeding his ‘mini business’, as Queenie dubbed it. Credence had been a nervous wreck  after being given such a huge job for such an important person, but Mr. Graves had been there with him (albeit reluctantly because ‘ _Seraphina’s gonna tease him for this the entire year_ ’), and though he was terrible with his hands and craft work, he was the perfect moral support for Credence.

A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts and Credence almost drops the current piece he’s working on. He looks up to see Tina and Mr. Graves coming in through the apartment door, back from another day at work. Credence immediately feels himself grin upon seeing the older man, not missing the bright trinkets on him too, now not just bracelets but brooches and sometimes beaded collar pins.

Mr. Graves - _Percival_ \- sees him and returns his smile, almost immediately heads over to Credence, presses a kiss to Credence’s forehead, a quick peck to his lips, and finally a full embrace, uncaring of the others in the room. Credence faintly hears Queenie and Modesty giggle, while he recognises the dying noise Tina makes. The older of the two Goldstein sisters has always been so embarrassed of such displays, and in turn, makes him just as embarrassed. He feels like he could combust any time, ducking his face to Mr. Graves’ neck, though he sneaks a returning kiss under the older man’s ear too.

“Cheeky,” he hears Mr. Graves murmur into his ear, warm hand cupping his neck again. His voice, his scent, his touch, are all so comforting.

“You can continue with that later, you two,” Queenie tuts, though she’s still grinning at the both of them. “Help us set the table for dinner. Modesty’s made some strudel for us.”

“You did?” Credence asks the young girl who’s beaming brightly at him.

“Yep!” She proudly serves the table with the food she’s helped Queenie to cook, and then gives the largest strudel piece to Credence.

Their dinner is a warm and lively moment, with casual talk and little jokes, a little bit of gossip and embarrassing stories. It fills Credence with delicious food and love and he feels like he belongs, finally. By the end of dinner he finds himself resting against Mr. Graves who’s seated beside him, enjoying the warmth the older man’s giving off far too much.

After they’ve cleared the table, they continue a little more of their crafts, with Modesty finishing her embroidery for the day with Queenie’s guidance and Credence manages to carve out a few more beads. Tina’s arguing with Mr. Graves over colour choices on her own bracelet, and it’s funny to see the man being so serious over it. He even used what Tina had loudly called it the Director’s Deadly Glare™, to have her give in to his choices.  

Eventually the night turns darker, and Mr. Graves is the one who’s impatient to get them home. He looks to Credence with a warm smile and a wordless quirk of his brows which Credence has learned to read and understand, and he nods in response. It’s time to pack up.

“Behave while you’re here, Modesty,” Credence reminds his sister and she rolls her eyes at him.

“Of course I will. I can’t afford to misbehave and be sent away to your place with Mr. Graves,” Modesty tells him. “It’s not polite to intrude, you know.”

Credence blushes at what his sister is implying, and Tina saves him from any more embarrassment by taking the young girl to bed. Tina is still awkward around them, though it’s clear she’s very happy and supportive of Credence, proud, even, to see Credence up and bright and hale. No longer the terrified boy trying to hide from the world. Credence shoots her a grateful smile as he steps into the Floo fireplace with Mr. Graves, who automatically slips his hand in Credence’s. The younger man grips the hand firmly, and both of them turn to smile at each other.

They disappear into the familiar green flames and back to Mr. Graves’ large apartment - _their_ apartment, _their_ home.

**.END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaand that's it folks! I hope it was sweet and fluffy enough for you! Credence is more emotional than seeing things humorously, I think. I apologize if you expected more humour. I'm terribly unfunny. Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and kudos! I didn't expect to get such a huge response so quickly!
> 
> Don't forget to visit and reblog [walter-sullivan-stubble's beautiful artwork](http://walter-sullivan-stubble.tumblr.com/post/154987801250/thought-credence-gives-mr-graves-ugly-bracelets) which inspired this fic!


End file.
